Page 1 of Billionaire Dragon King’s Rejected Mate

Chapter 1

Chance

Chance Parelli stood alone in the quiet of his corner office long before the city below had properly awakened. The pale Florida morning stretched across the Gulf waters visible through the wide windows of the TimeOff headquarters tower and shone across the polished floors in streaks that slowly crept toward his desk where he sat reading a letter with an expression that had turned to stone long before he reached the final line.

The paper itself was thick and expensive, the kind reserved for royal correspondence, its crest pressed into the corner in silver foil that glinted each time the sunlight shifted, and though the words had been written in the flowing, deliberate script of King Lucas of Crystafalls, Chance did not need to read them again to feel their weight press against the carefully constructed life he had spent the last decade building one decision at a time.

Your father grows more unstable by the day. Noriveille cannot withstand his temper much longer. The council believes only you can restore order. You must return.

The signature beneath it might as well have been a chain being dragged back across the ocean.

Chance stared at Lucas’s signature for several long seconds without moving. His jaw tightened as memories he had buried years ago clawed to the surface of his mind. The towering stone halls that echoed with arguments, frightened servants who whispered in corners, and the unpredictable fury of his own father, King Gunner, that could turn an ordinary council meeting into a battlefield of shattered glass and frightened guards.

For most of his life he had been Prince Chauncey of Noriveille, heir to a kingdom whose name carried expectation, duty, and the suffocating certainty that one day he would inherit a throne whether he wanted it or not. A throne known mostly for its cruelty and madness.

But ten years ago, he had walked away from all of it.

He had crossed the ocean, built a company from the ground up, and reshaped himself piece by careful piece until the man the world knew, Chance Parelli, founder and CEO of TimeOff Entertainment, had no obvious connection to the prince who had vanished from Noriveille without warning.

No one here knew the truth. Not his executives, not the investors who trusted him with billions, and not the media who occasionally tried to coax him into interviews he always avoided. To the business world, he was simply a private, brilliant entrepreneur who preferred to stay invisible behind the scenes while his leadership team and brilliant marketing department handled the spotlight.

And he intended to keep it that way.

The letter crinkled sharply as his fingers tightened around it.

“No,” he muttered under his breath, the word leaving him in a quiet growl that vibrated faintly in his chest, where the dragon that shared his soul stirred in restless agreement.

Chance stood abruptly, crushing the paper into a tight ball before tossing it across the office, where it bounced once off the far wall and dropped neatly into the wastebasket beside the door.

His homeland, his father, the crown that had once waited for him all belonged to a life he had already buried.

He checked the time on his watch, exhaled slowly, and forced his thoughts away from Noriveille. Chance Parelli had a business to run and Prince Chauncey did not exist anymore. He turned away from the trash can as though the matter were settled and reached for his suit jacket draped over the chair. He needed to run up to his apartment on the top floor of the building to get ready.

Today there was a ribbon-cutting ceremony on the outskirts of Tampa.

Normally he would have let one of his executives handle it like he did most acquisitions because public appearances were rarely his preference. But this was the first waterpark he, or his company, had built from the ground up, so he wanted to attend personally. This new park was a major addition to the company’s growing Florida portfolio, and the city officials had been insistent that the ribbon-cutting was necessary.

Despite his normal CEO attire of expensive suits and ties, shorts and a T-shirt were more appropriate for the day, especially since he planned on acting as one of his executives and not as the CEO. There were very few photographs of him, by choice, so no one would be any the wiser. And no one, including his staff, would expect him to show up with the look of a tourist anxious to get wet.

He hurried toward the elevator, his thoughts already on sun and fun. Loosening up once in a while was good for the soul.

The Tampa sun blazed by mid-morning and the air was heavy with the warm scent of chlorine and sunscreen as families gathered outside the towering entrance gates of the newly renovated waterpark. Bright banners snapped in the breeze and a walkway had been set up in front of a small stage set up for the ceremony.

Chance walked over to where his employees had gathered off to the side, most he knew, some he didn’t. He made a mental note to spend a little time and get to know the new hires as he walked up to his marketing director, Celia Ramirez.

“Ribbon cutting at eleven sharp,” she muttered and tapped notes into her phone. “Speech from Chance at eleven-oh-five, press photos at eleven-ten…”

“Morning.” He laughed when Celia jumped. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She looked up at him and blinked.

He resisted the urge to laugh again. He knew he threw her with his appearance, from his faded board shorts to a peachy-colored T-shirt and flip-flops. His sunglasses hung around his neck and his usually perfect hair was purposely mussed. The other staff members stood with their mouths gaping.

Celia stared. “…Sir? Did… your apartment get burglarized or something?”

“Nope.”

“You’re the CEO of a multibillion-dollar company,” she said slowly. “You’re supposed to be in a suit.”